


Turbulence

by SilverRollu



Series: Turbulence AU [1]
Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood, Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRollu/pseuds/SilverRollu
Summary: Life hasn't been easy for Asch. Balancing his University classes and working for most of his free time has been a struggle, but it's worth it at the end of the day. Because at the end of the day, he has Luke.And if he has Luke, he can do anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stressing over this beast for the last few months, and it's finally done! This is the longest singular piece I've ever written, so I'm personally proud of it? It's definitely not the happiest thing but I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warnings for **blood, mild gore, vomit** and some **graphic descriptions of injuries.** Stay safe.

Asch wakes up at 11am. He’s not very happy about this fact, considering it’s his only day off this week between work and classes, and _god knows_ he wants to spend the entirety of it asleep. He _wants_ to spend all day in bed but Luke texted him last night to ask if he wanted to go on a date since he was also free and Asch, as stubborn and frowny-faced as he could be, couldn’t find it in him to say no when Luke called him and gave his best whiny voice. Sometimes Asch thinks he’s spoiling him.

So he reluctantly stumbles out of bed, showers, and leaves his apartment around 11:30. The drive to the little café they’re to meet at is only about ten minutes, so he spends those ten minutes flipping through radio stations in the car, frustrated at only finding commercials and random pop music he doesn’t care about. By the time he finds something he can _actually_ listen to he’s already parallel parking and heading inside.

Luke is standing at the counter, peering intensely into a row of freshly baked pastries behind a glass. He doesn’t notice Asch approaching him, which means he jumps when tapped on the shoulder. The look on his face when he turns brings out the most undignified snort-laugh Asch has ever made.

“Asch, that’s not funny,” Luke says, running a hand through his short hair. Asch almost feels bad.

“To you, maybe.” Asch leans over a bit, ignoring his boyfriend to look a the pastries himself. He can guess at what Luke was staring at; a long row of strawberry tarts, the fruits cut and arranged into little hearts.

Luke, who hasn’t given up on his pouting game, leans into Asch’s side and pokes him a few times. “You should buy me something for being so mean to me.”

“Nah.” Asch straightens up but doesn’t bother to shake Luke off when he begins leaning heavily into his side. “But I’ll buy _me_ something as thanks for being mean to _you._ ”

Luke orders a frappuccino — “It’s cold outside, what the fuck,” Asch says, but is promptly ignored — while Asch orders a _hot_ coffee and two of those strawberry tarts. They sit in a corner booth for a while, Asch enjoying his much needed caffeine while Luke talks animatedly about his classes. Midterm exams have just ended, and while everyone else is enjoying the brief lull in homework, Luke has still been struggling in his biology class. Luke assures him that his lower grades are no fault of his, since “Professor Curtiss is an ass” but Asch is pretty sure it’s because it’s a 9am class and Luke is barely awake at 8:45.

Once they’ve had enough of that they head back to Asch’s car, discussing their half-made plans. With it being well into October now, their options for outings have been limited. The night before Luke suggested going to see a movie, but since they _always_ go to the movies — or stay in to watch movies, as they do more often now — Asch shot the idea down real quick. Not having come up with anything good, Luke gets into the passenger seat and watches Asch expectantly.

“So?”

“So…..?”

“ _Sooooo_ … where to?”

Asch starts the engine, fiddles around with the heat until it starts blasting warm air rather than cold, and sighs. Good shit. “I got an idea.”

“Great. Where?” Asch doesn’t say anything as he pulls out and begins to drive off. “Where are we going?”

“Fuck, is the sun bright today.”

“You _ass_.”

He begins to flip through the radio stations, pointedly ignoring his boyfriend as he finds that there _still_ isn’t anything good to listen to.

 

*****

 

A twenty minute drive later and they arrive at the aquarium.

It’s not the same one they used to visit together in high school, but that one is two hours away and Asch is pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to hold off Luke’s incessant prying long enough to keep it a secret.

“We’re here,” Asch says. After spending two minutes trying to find a spot closer to the entrance he finally settled down for a spot somewhere mid-parking lot, and was no less annoyed about it. He glances over at Luke who, wide-eyed, is staring at the building in the distance in silent awe.

They hadn’t properly been to an aquarium _since_ high school, much to Luke’s chagrin. He loves places like these, constantly amused by fish since he was a child, apparently. When they both moved here for college they learned this place existed, but could never properly plan an outing with their schedules.

When Luke finally turns to look at him it’s with a smile that’s all teeth, eyes crinkling _just_ so.

“Asch, Oh my god? I was worried because it was taking so long but _oh my g—_ ”

“Are we going in, or are we gonna sit here all afternoon?”

He doesn’t have to tell Luke twice. He’s out the door and stumbling onto the sidewalk in his very badly concealed excitement. Asch manages to lock his doors before he’s nearly dragged by the arm into the building.

It’s still early, so the place isn’t as packed as it could be, a fact that Asch enjoys. At one point while checking out a tank Luke laces their fingers together, and though Asch has never been one for pda, he can’t find it in him to let go. Luke is warm — even though he’s only wearing a thin University hoodie and by all means should be _freezing_ today — and as they walk his thumb rubs over Asch’s fingers in soft circles and Asch even forgets to be teasingly mean for the next hour.

Luke insist they take a selfie by the clownfish, aiming the camera to get a nice view of all the different colored anemonefish behind them. Asch sticks his tongue out artfully for the photo. Wiggling his nose, Luke adjusts the phone in his hand, pointing it solely at Asch.

“Take a normal picture.”

“That was a normal picture.”

“Asch.”

Asch puts his middle finger up, tongue still out.

“Asch!"

Asch shakes his head and takes a long, exaggerated sigh. He pulls his hand up to run it through his hair, pushing the dark red strands back and out of his face. He then halfheartedly gestures to the tank.  “How’s that? …..did you take it?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me see.”

Luke holds out his phone as Asch looks over his shoulder. It takes a few seconds longer for him to realize that there was a video playing back at him, shaking slightly in Luke’s grasp.

“Luke I’m gonna kill you.”

Laughing, Luke pulls his phone away before Asch can grab it and safely tucks it back into his pocket. He ignores Asch’s plea — read: demand — for him to delete it and instead grabs his hand again to lead him further down the hall. “You love me too much for that.” Asch holds his fingers tightly.

 

*****

 

Luke insists on buying a stupid snow globe at the giftshop. It fits snuggly into both of Luke’s hands; inside is a carefully shaped wave, on which two dolphins are riding. The first dolphin is holding up the second, smaller dolphin on it’s nose, like some kind of precarious balancing act. Of course it’s fish based, Asch snorts, but Luke loves it all the same.

Eventually they leave the aquarium to go out to eat, staying out until the sun starts to set and deciding that maybe heading home would be a good idea. Asch almost doesn’t want to. He has an 8am class, work a few hours after that, study groups… Often he admonishes Luke for being too distracting when he needed to get things done but… sometimes he needed that distraction. Sometimes he feels like he’d just _die_ without the other redhead.

Luke is fiddling with his phone, probably uploading the selfies from the day, as Asch drives to their college campus. He finds Luke’s car in one of the parking lots and waits. Luke left it there earlier, as it was faster to just walk to the café from earlier straight from his class rather than walk halfway across campus to get in his car.

Asch takes a deep breath, long exhale. When he turns Luke is already watching him. “Thank you, Asch.”

Shaking his head Asch sighs, looking up at the roof of his car. It’s dark. “...I needed this, you know.”

“I know.”

With a small smile Asch leans in, Luke meeting him halfway to push their lips together. The kiss is short but Asch relishes in it anyway, bumping their foreheads together while Luke laughs quietly, breath soft against his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They stay like that for a few moments.

“You know, I actually have homework to do,” Luke says, unmoving.

“You’re probably not going to do it, are you?”

“How do you know that? I bet Guy will help me…”

“Keep bothering him and he’ll start charging you.”

Luke pulls back then, face scrunching up before laughing again. “ _Fine_ , fine. I’ll just bother _you_ later.”

With a smile, Luke hops out of the car and begins to head towards his own. He gets maybe five steps away before he sprints back, a loud “OH” accentuating his return. Asch lifts an eyebrow at him but Luke just shakes his head. “My snow globe.” Luke ducks under the passenger seat for a few moments before reemerging empty-handed. “Where did it—”

“Hold on.” Asch gets out off the car and opens the back door, Luke circling around the car to follow him. Somehow the snow globe had rolled underneath the seat, yet when Asch holds it up for Luke to inspect there’s not a scratch on it.

“Huh…” Luke makes to grab it but Asch holds it out of his reach. “Asch?” Asch doesn’t respond. He’s staring intently at the globe, a few pieces of glitter slowly making their descent from the top of the glass. “You okay?”

Asch means to shake his head but he doesn’t. There’s something slithering up his spine, the back of his neck. He means to tell Luke that something is wrong. He doesn’t.

Instead he pulls his arms up — except he’s not, not really, as his joints creak when they move, all stiff, and—

He brings the snow globe down in one quick, solid motion.

Luke only barely manages to get out of the way, stumbling backwards into the trunk of the car as the globe hits the ground, glass shattering. “Asch— Asch, what the _hell_?” He takes a step back.

Asch bends down — and his joints really _are_ doing this thing where they creak and it feels like there’s cotton in his knees — and picks at the shards, glass pricking his fingers as he rifles through them. He’s _not_ rifling through them, he’s not doing this, he’s _not_. He finds the biggest shard, one that’s sticky wet from the liquid inside and covered in glitter. He holds it and begins forward, plowing right into Luke and knocking him over.

Luke takes to the ground with a loud _oomph_ , and Asch can hear the crack his skull makes when it hits the pavement. Asch has — somehow, though he’s not sure — pinned him to the ground, sitting on his chest. Luke squirms and begins to scream.

He pushes the jagged piece of glass into Luke’s throat. Asch can’t feel the way his arm moves, the way his bleeding fingers grasp the end of the glass piece, but he feels the twitch of Luke’s body under his weight. Feels the way the glass sinks into the skin like cutting through a thick slab of meat.

Luke’s legs are kicking out wildly and his hands are on Asch’s — though he can’t feel them — but he’s making no edgeway in stopping the descent at all, and his eyes are blown wide —

Luke opens his mouth to scream again but there is no scream, just a gargle, blood bubbling up dark red from the sides of his lips. It dribbles down his chin and it soaks into his university hoodie. His legs stop squirming.

Asch means to yell. He doesn’t.

 

*****

 

Asch wakes up at 11am. He sits up in bed, heart beating frantically, fingers fisted uncomfortably tight in his bed sheets. He takes a long look around his bedroom, taking in the window, blinds closed. The desk, books stacked neatly, backpack lying on the ground near the chair, not pushed in. He takes in the carpet, the walls covered in band posters, the dirty clothes hamper in the corner. He takes a deep breath.

And another.

He can’t stop shaking.

He shakes his head several times and stumbles out of bed, almost tripping as he makes his way over to his desk. He grabs his phone and opens it, clicking through to see the last text message he sent. Seven hours ago, to Luke: _“I’ll meet you there.”_ It takes a few more terrifyingly quiet moments for him to realize it was a nightmare. He didn’t just murder his boyfriend. He didn’t.

Asch takes a few more minutes to settle his heart and takes a quick shower before getting dressed and heading out. The steering wheel feels strange under his fingers, and he fiddles with the radio for a little bit, trying to find something comforting to listen to but only getting dumb pop music he doesn’t care about.

He pulls up to the café and walks in, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when he spots Luke — breathing, _alive_ — standing at the counter, looking at those damn strawberry tarts. Asch walks over to him, and settles on a soft “hey” for a greeting.

Luke startles slightly but still turns to Asch with a smile. “Hey!”

Asch, finding himself at a loss for words, just leans over a bit, looking at the pastries in the glass. The strawberries are still arranged like little hearts. He wants to say he’s feeling deja vu but that isn’t a word strong enough for it.

“Asch? Asch, are you even listening?” Luke began talking at some point, but Asch for the life of him cannot remember a thing he said. “Are you awake yet?”

He shakes his head, whether as an answer or just to clear it, he isn’t sure. “I need coffee.”

When Asch gets to the counter he orders his coffee and two of the tarts, feeling a bit warm when Luke’s face lights up at the prospect of sweets. “I didn’t even ask!”

“You were two seconds away from staring a hole into the glass.” Asch finds a seat for them in the corner — a booth. He passes Luke his tart and begins to sip on his coffee, listening quietly while Luke begins to talk about biology class again — or the first time, Asch reminds himself. Luke isn’t particularly _bad_ at biology, but he isn’t that great either. Pop quizzes at 9am aren’t his strong suit, as he tells Asch in so many words, a childish pout stuck to his face as he relays the events from class.

Asch doesn’t have much to say. Maybe it’s because he isn’t so good at biology himself, or because he doesn’t have personal experience with that professor. Maybe it’s because Luke is talking, and he watches the way Luke’s throat moves when he swallows, the skin smooth and unbroken. He shakes his head.

“Asch?” Luke leans in a bit, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? You look sick.”

“No, I… I’m just…” Shaking his head again, he takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to go out if you’re feeling bad…”

“No, it’s okay.” Asch tries a smile, but it only makes Luke frown harder. “I’m just tired from last night.”

“Was work that bad?”

Asch works at some stupid department store until late, cleaning and stocking the backgroom. It meant he didn’t get home until well after midnight, but he wouldn’t consider _that_ part of his night bad. “Just annoying.” Asch passes his half eaten tart across the table to Luke, then stretches his arms above his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine. We can still go.”

Luke takes the tart but still eyes his boyfriend warily, the obvious worry on his face not leaving. “If you’re sure…”

He doesn’t regret taking Luke to the aquarium again — for the first time, he reminds himself. For the first time in a few years. Luke gives this _look_ , his smile wide and cute and genuine, and it makes Asch forget the awful feeling that has settled deep into his bones. This time, as they march through the halls, he takes Luke’s hand first. Luke is more than happy to hold on, swinging their connected hands back and forth like a giddy kid.

An hour or so later and Asch begins to forget about the nightmare altogether, though he is still a bit apprehensive when they walk by the gift shop, the snow globe from before watching him from it’s display near the window.

“Wow…” Luke picks it up gingerly, holding it in his hands and shaking it just a little. As the glitter at the bottom begins to pick up and fall gently he smiles. “I haven’t had one of these in a long time.”

Asch shifts from one foot to the other, frowning. “Are you sure you even need one of those?”

“But it’s so cool.” Luke holds it up to Asch’s face. He can see the finer details of the mammals like this, the small little painted smiles on their faces as they leap from the water, free with not a single care in the world. It makes Asch’s skin crawl.

“You don’t need some overpriced gift shop snow globe, Luke. You’ll probably just break the damn thing.” He tries to give his best snort, but he can’t deny the pit growing in the pit of his stomach. He’s just repeating an argument now, one that he lost once before.

“No I won’t!” Luke huffs, holding it tightly in his fingers, and Asch resists the urge to sigh.

He feels strangely helpless as he watches Luke buy the souvenir. Luke’s reaction to it is the same as his dream; he still ditches the little bag it came with in favor of cradling it in his hands, shaking it constantly as they walk.

Asch doesn’t want to think about the similarities anymore. “You hungry? Why am I even asking, you’re always hungry.”

Luke scoffs but has no actual rebuttal. “Where should we go?” Asch responds with a shrug. “Burgers then.”

“We’re going to have heart attacks.”

“Delicious heart attacks.”

 

*****

 

By the time they make it back to campus it’s dark out. Asch drives up next to Luke’s car, one of only a few left in the lot. He turns to look at Luke, who’s watching him closely, smiling.

“Thank you, Asch.”

“Yeah,” He says and leans in. Once again Luke meets him halfway, their kiss brief but soft.

Luke pulls back, brings a hand up to cup the back of Asch’s head. He leans back, peering deeply into his face. After a few seconds he frowns, apparently not pleased with what he sees. “Are you really okay? You’ve been kinda… off, today.”

Asch takes a breath and chuckles on the exhale. It’s brief and mirthless. “It’s stupid.”

“What’s new?” Luke says, slightly joking, but his fingers are combing through Asch’s hair now. “What was it?”

“I…” Asch swallows. “Nevermind.”

“Asch—”

“I’ll tell you later,” Asch says, opening his eyes — he’s unaware that he’d even closed them - and ignoring his boyfriend’s frown. “You got homework, I got shit to finish up for the morning. This can wait until later.”

Luke’s mouth opens like he wants to say something else, but he surprisingly drops it. “Okay. You’d tell me if it’s really bad, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” Luke leans in to peck him on the lips again. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Luke gets out of the car and walks towards his only to stop mid-step and turn right back around. “OH, Asch—”

“Backseat.” Asch says, right as Luke begins to rifle through the passenger side again. “It’s under the seat, probably.”

That’s exactly where he finds it. It makes Asch’s stomach curl. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, willing himself to stay still. Luke waves to Asch as he walks in front of the car, intending to get around to his own. Asch tries to nod to him, but doesn’t.

Instead he steps on the gas.

He doesn’t remember taking the car out of park, he doesn’t remember feeling the flex of his foot on the pedal, but the car certainly lurches forward. He sees the surprise on Luke’s face as it rams into him, his body careening forward and into the windshield with a sickening thud.

Asch wants to scream, but he can’t.

Luke hits hard enough to put a dent in the hood. Asch can hear him cough, trying to breathe in the air so wrongfully knocked from his lungs. His body twitches as he tries to push himself up. Asch puts the car in reverse — though not _really_ , after all, he cannot feel the gear under his fingers or the leather of the wheel as he turns it —

Luke simply tumbles off the hood as the car reverses. The tires screech. He goes back into drive. Luke has managed to pull himself upright a few seconds before the car goes over him.

Asch wishes the radio was still on. Without music there’s nothing to drown out the crack of Luke’s bones as he runs over his torso, the tires as they track all over his university hoodie, the breathless exclamation of pain that cuts off when the back wheel finishes running over him.

Asch is shaking — he _thinks_ he’s shaking, but he can’t feel his body at all, other than the tingling in his spine like static, slithering up his neck and to the back of his skull — and he places the car in reverse again.

The crack is softer the second run around. The tires screech. Asch tries to scream but

 

*****

 

Asch wakes up at 11am. He falls out of bed, trembling, desperately trying to kick off the comforter that has twined its way around his legs. He decides it isn’t important, and drags it with him as he half-crawls, half-stumbles to his bathroom.

He looks in the mirror. His face looks the same; the slightly half-crooked nose from that time he broke it in the seventh grade, the bags under his eyes from sleeping four hours a night, the dark red hair falling down his shoulders and back, the shorter bangs framing his face, slick with sweat. Asch looks just as he remembers himself.

It feels wrong. There’s something tip-toeing up his spine, skin stretched tight.

He scratches at the back of his head, trying to get rid of the — he doesn’t know what it is, it’s just _weird_ , wet like slime, not on the back of his skull but _in_ his skull, somehow. He

scratches until it begins to hurt and his scalp becomes slightly damp with blood, the skin breaking. It’s under his fingernails. He can’t stop trembling.

His feet carry him out of his apartment and down three flights of stairs to the front of his apartment complex. His car is parked right where he remembers parking it. There’s no dent on the roof, no cracks in the windshield. He checks under the wheels. There’s no blood, no strands of bright red hair, no evidence of… anything. Just week old mud caked in the wheels.

“...what the fuck?” He says, voice low. “What the _fuck_ ?” He drags his hands through his hair again. His scalp hurts but, _god_ , he’s trying not to scream. In a sudden fit he kicks his front tire as hard as he can, once, twice, and then he actually _is_ screaming. Nevermind the people walking down the street across from him, no doubt staring at him and thinking he's some sort of weirdo. This strange guy in pajamas, no shoes, no jacket, in the middle of October.

He stares helplessly at his car.

Just… what are the odds?

 

Back at his apartment Asch forgoes a shower and just throws on the first thing he sees in his closet before leaving. He doesn’t bother flipping through radio stations this time, riding in silence to the café. Luke is at the counter, watching the pastries through the glass. He’s wearing his university hoodie. He’s uncrushed and unhurt. The sight only calms his stomach a little.

He walks up to Luke and grabs his arm.

“Wh— Asch!” Luke nearly jumps out of his skin, his eyes widen so big — just as big as the last time, his surprise at the car lurched forward and

He lets him go.

“Asch…?”

Shaking his head, Asch takes a step back. He bumps into someone; they say something that Asch doesn’t hear. The walls are starting to spin — or is that _him_ , turning on his heels, running to the exit; he’s spinning, his _head is turning, his stomach is —_

His ears are full of cotton. Someone grabs his hand. He’s sitting on the curb. It’s hard to breathe.

A voice comes to him, in and out of focus like a radio tuning. _...Asch….. brea….th…. Pleas…. A….h..._

Small. He feels so small.

 

*****

 

A few minutes later Asch calms down. Enough to breathe steadily again. Luke is still holding his hand; Asch can feel the skin of his fingers, warm, slightly clammy. Suddenly the mid-autumn air is especially chilly.

“Hey?” Luke’s voice is soft. His free hand comes to rest atop their connected ones, rubbing the back of Asch’s with the pad of his thumb. “You feeling better?”

Not trusting his voice, Asch simply nods.

“What happened? Do you need to talk about it?” The concern in his voice is so apparent, so loud even though he’s speaking in hushed tones, face close. Asch is shaking down to his bones.

“Luke, I…” shallow breath, shaky exhale. His throat is so dry. “I love you.”

If Luke was surprised by the sudden outburst, he didn’t show it. “I love you too, Asch.” Separating their hands slowly, carefully, Luke wraps his arms around Asch’s shoulders. He rubs his back in wide circles. “Tell me what happened?”

For a split moment Asch considers not telling him. But the dreams repeat behind his closed eyelids, one long reel of suffering. Images blur, rewind, replay, and the words are on his lips before he realizes he’s speaking. “You were dead… you _died_ Luke. And you were…. I couldn’t stop it, I… I couldn’t control _anything_ , It—” He takes in a stuttering breath. His heart is hammering in his chest.

“A nightmare?” Luke asks, still rubbing his back. Asch nods, face buried in his neck,

— _not bleeding, not cut open, skin dangling over a giant sliver of black and red_ —

Luke begins to rock back and forth. “Shhh.... Breathe, babe, breathe….”

Asch takes another deep breath. Luke smells like shampoo, cinnamon, oats. Life.

“Hey, uhm… let’s head back to my place, okay?”

Asch lets himself be pulled up by Luke. Before, he hadn’t noticed how many people were on the streets, no doubt watching them with curious, judging eyes. Luke is brushing his pants off and Asch copies his motion, feeling oddly numb. They walk to his parked car and Luke takes the keys from his boyfriend’s hand, pushing him over to the passenger’s side instead. Often, Asch would complain about Luke’s driving (“Luke you drive like a _grandma_ oh my god”) but he relinquishes the keys this time without a fight.

The drive is slow, the heat is blasting him in the face, and Luke is humming along softly to the old rock song playing on the radio. If he closes his eyes he could fall asleep, just like this.

He keeps them open.

 

 

Luke’s place is bigger than his; it’s paid for by his rich parents, much like a lot of the things Luke has. Like his car, or his tuition. The kid is spoiled to pieces, enough so that Asch teases him about it relentlessly. There are definitely upsides to it, however. Like how Luke’s couch is much more comfortable than his, for example. He crosses the threshold and drops backward onto it, starting up at the ceiling.

A minute later Luke’s face takes up the view. “Hey.”

Asch sits up and takes the glass. He drinks half of it in one go, enjoying the way it chills his throat going down. It’s a nice sensation. Everything else is starting to feel numb.

“Are you feeling any better?” A shrug. “Hmm….” Luke begins to fidget in the seat next to him. He pulls one leg up on the couch and wraps his arms around it, holding his knee close to his chest. “You uh… haven’t had one of those in a while.”

Luke is trying his best not to look too nervous and failing spectacularly, but Asch doesn’t care. Despite how transparent Luke usually is with his own emotions, he isn’t great at dealing with the feelings of other people. But that’s okay. What Asch cares about is that Luke’s first reaction upon seeing him panic isn’t frustration or exasperation. It's patience, and that means more to him than he could say.

And Asch loves him for it. So, so much.

“Yeah, I know…. Thank you.” Asch puts his now empty glass on the coffee table and moves to run his fingers through his hair. He stops though, remembering abruptly how sore his scalp is. It still burns.

“Of course.” Luke pulls his other leg up and shuffles closer to Asch, leaning against his side. “You worry me sometimes… I care about you a lot, y’know?”

Asch puts his arms around Luke, pulling him closer. “I know. I’m sorry, we were supposed to go out.”

Shaking his head, Luke offers him a small smile. “It’s okay. We can just chill today.” Luke adjusts himself and Asch tightens his hold in advance, resting his chin on Luke’s shoulder.

They spend the afternoon huddled together on the couch, talking. They reminisce about their childhoods; they hadn’t met until high school so everything before then is always new and interesting. In middle school Asch had been much angrier, a small kid dressed in all black that enjoyed My Chemical Romance a little _too_ much for his own good. Everything was annoying. He got into fights constantly, found himself suspended more often than not until his foster parents at the time got fed up and sent him to some summer program for “delinquents.”

Luke had gone to private schools his whole life. He didn’t start fights, but he was known as a “disruptive child.” Always interrupting class, complaining, pulling petty pranks on the other students in his class. The worst he got was detention, his parents being too Old Money for the school to do anything worse.

Asch had always been envious of shit like that. Though, the more he got to know Luke, the more he understood how _frustrating_ that must have been. To crave attention and still be blown off.

At some point Luke has turned on his tv, some random show playing in the background while Asch absent-mindedly strokes his hair. Attention… Luke deserves it. Luke deserves a lot of things.

“Hey, Asch—” Luke begins, but is caught off-guard by Asch kissing him. He absolutely melts into it however, letting Asch slowly push him back into the couch.

Honestly, things feel so… so _different_ that he can’t help but relax. Luke is pliant under his hands, warm when Asch rubs his side, fingers sliding under his hoodie to touch his skin. They fit together perfectly and it’s so familiar, so _calming_ that Asch wants to stay like this forever. Wants to be here, in Luke’s arms, holding him, breathing him in, kissing him over and over and

Things feel so _different_ from the last two times.

He pulls back, watching the way Luke pants, eyes half-lidded and kiss-bruised lips parted slightly. Luke shifts, maybe trying to sit up, maybe trying to get more leeway in their position. He sighs —

That’s when Asch pushes the pillow into his face. His heart stutters in his chest. Luke’s hands come up to cover his, pushing at his fingers but Asch pushes down harder, sitting up — but why, he’s not doing this, _he doesn’t_ _want to_ — in order to get better leverage.

Luke is scratching the back of his hands. Asch is trying desperately to move them, to stop, _stop don’t do this, you love him, you_ love _him_ —- but he can’t _feel_ his hands.

He wants — needs — to stop. He doesn’t.

The back of his skull burns.

Luke is trying to thrash, but his position is a bit awkward so he can’t really kick, and Asch is dwarfing most of his body anyway. His screaming is muffled. Asch thinks he can hear words, pleas for him to stop, maybe even screams of his own name.

The squirming stops. Luke’s fingers begin to fall from their spot on Asch’s wrists, the angry red welts from his fingernails the only testament to his struggle. The screaming fades away but they echo in his ears, distant.

 

_….…n’t…..br….th…...Plea…….…...A….h…….._

 

Asch is still holding the pillow down even though he’s trying to move, he’s trying so _hard_ , but he can’t feel them, everything is

Asch wakes up at 11am. He crawls over to the side of his bed and pukes. There’s not much _to_ puke, since he didn’t have much to eat the night before — or did he, he can’t even remember now, _did_ he eat?

His throat burns as the bile comes up, all over his semi-clean carpet, on the articles of clothing that had the misfortune of being in the way, he’s

— he’s shaking so bad, his skull is burning, everything is numb.

Asch opens his lips and something else comes up; a scream, hot like acid, twisted and shredded like he’s been swallowing blades. He throws up scream after scream after scream.

 

*****

 

He doesn’t clean up the vomit.

He doesn’t leave the apartment.

In the corner of his bedroom he sits, sifting through the text conversation he had with Luke a day before — two days — three days — there’s a steady pressure building behind his eyes.

 

 

 

 

> _**Luke:** _
> 
> _You got the day off tomorrow right? wanna go out??_
> 
> _**Asch:** _
> 
> _Don't you have class tomorrow?_
> 
> _**Luke:** _
> 
> _My second class got canceled!! Im free after bio_
> 
> _**Asch:** _
> 
> _How convenient._
> 
> _**Luke:** _
> 
> _PLEASE PLEAAAAASE_
> 
> _it's been forever!!!!!_
> 
> _Come onnnnnn_

 

Asch isn’t quite sure how long he’s been sitting there. His phone buzzes in his hands, first only a few times, then near continuously. He doesn’t answer the calls but he reads the texts. He can already taste the stomach acid again.

 

 

 

 

> _**Luke:** _
> 
> _Where are you?_
> 
> _???_
> 
> _Asch, are you still asleep?_
> 
> _Answer your phone_
> 
> _Did you get called into work or something_
> 
> _Please answer your phone_
> 
> _Asch_

 

_— muffled and desperate, Asch, Asch, a plea a scream Asch stop please Asch—_

 

This time he manages to crawl to the bathroom before losing his stomach again. Part of him wonders if it even matters; after all, he’s just gonna wake up again and everything will go back to the way it was. The way it was before he….

His hands are clutching the toilet bowl tightly. His dry heaves are painful. There’s nothing left inside.

There’s a knock at the door.

Or rather, there’s been a series of knocks on his door for a while now, he just didn’t realize until he began to hear Luke’s voice accompanying it.

“Asch! Asch, I know you're here; Your car is still outside.”

Asch slumps against the toilet, the porcelain cool against his skin. If he ignores it, maybe Luke will give up and go away. He wants him to leave. He thinks about blood and bones and _muffled breathless cries_ and god, he wants Luke as far away as possible.

 _Please_ , is the only thing Asch can think. Over and over, like a prayer. _Stay away from me._

The banging gets louder. The sound reverberates in his tiny apartment. If he stays still enough he can feel it through the floor.

“ASCH, OPEN THE DOOR.”

He takes in a shaky breath.

Silence.

Asch counts the seconds with baited breath, waiting for another bang, to hear Luke’s scrambling voice. He’s certain that with the right determination his boyfriend would and could tear the door down if needed. Asch waits and waits but there’s nothing. His sigh of relief leaves him breathless.

If Luke isn’t around then maybe…. maybe nothing will happen. Asch closes his eyes, leaning heavily against the toilet. He wonders if going back to sleep will change things, if he can just wake up from this horror film his life has become. Things like this don't happen outside of film, right? Dreams within dreams. Waking nightmares.

He starts to drift off to sleep right as another bang echoes through the apartment. It’s not the door this time.

“Asch! _Asch._ ”

He stumbles to his feet, finds himself walking out the bathroom without meaning to, over to the window. The one he doesn’t use. The one Luke is standing by right now, having somehow climbed up the fire escape. Luke is knocking on it, softer now that Asch has come into view, and his expression is faintly relieved.

“Asch!”

“ _How._ ”

“I don’t know,” Luke shrugs, lifting his arms to gesture to a whole lot of _nothing_ before letting them drop to his sides, jingling where they hit the pockets of his jeans. “I can jump _really_ fucking high?” It’s said in a breathless rush. Asch notices belatedly how Luke’s shoulders heave, his mouth agape as he tries to take in deep breaths and…

...this man really did jump up a fire escape for him, didn’t he?

“What happened, Asch?”

“You can’t be here,” Asch says, voice scratchy and weak. “You… you can’t…”

“We were supposed to meet up _hours_ ago.” He pulls on the window like he’s trying to open it. It rattles, loud enough to make Asch flinch. “No one knew where you were and you didn’t answer your phone, and…” Deep breath. Luke is absolutely shaken, looking up at him with a fiercely desperate expression. It’s a look fit for a drama, for the tragedies where everything has gone horribly wrong and Asch feels the weight of Luke’s stare twisting deeply in his stomach. Things have gone horribly wrong. “I thought you were _dead_ in here or something, I…”

His mouth is dry. “Luke, I….” He swallows, but that makes it worse. “You have to go.”

“Why?” Luke presses close to the window, watching him. His brow is crinkling and he looks no happier for it. “What’s going on?”

_I’ve killed you three times already._

His skin is crawling.

“...you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Listen, Luke—” Asch places a hand on the window, finding that he needs it to hold himself up. “You have to go, you could

_die, you’ll die, you’ll—_

get hurt if you stay here. It’s not safe.”

“What?”

“Something is happening, okay. Something…. _Really freaky_ so I need you to leave, now, before it happens again.”

“What do you mean? What’s going to happen?”

“Please, Luke.” Asch _hates_ to beg, he hates sounding needy but… he is so desperate now. The hand that isn’t clinging to the window is clenched at his side, fingernails digging into his sweaty palm. “ _Please._ ”

Luke presses his hand to the window, over Asch’s. “What happened?” His voice is soft and his eyes are wet and Asch is — “Please tell me, please… let me help you.”

Why does he have to be so sweet? Asch is shaking all over. He stares at his boyfriend of over four years, with his bright stubborn eyes and worried frown, the slight dusting of freckles on his cheeks, framed by his light red hair and,

And he gets so fucking _angry._

He’s not going to do it again. He won’t.

The back of his neck is crawling.

“Just leave! Just fucking go, alright!” Asch brings his fists to pound on the window, snarling. “Go. I don’t want you here.”

Luke takes a step back, his back hitting the railing. It wobbles.

“What? What’s the problem, Asch? I’m just trying to help!”

“You can help by getting out of my face.”

Taken aback, Luke shakes his head, eyes widening. “Okay, what the actual _fuck_ is going on Asch?” He stomps his foot. The whole stairwell wobbles. “I’m just trying to help and you’re blowing me off? This is stupid.”

“Yeah that’s just _great_ , coming from you.”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah, Mister ‘let me just climb a fucking fire exit in the middle of the day’, like… are you fucking _serious_ with this shit?”

“I did it because I was _worried!_ About _you!_ Asshole!”

“Well don’t! I’m not worth it, Luke.” _You don’t deserve this._ “So do me a favor and fuck off.” _I’m so sorry._

Luke’s mouth opens and closes a few times but in the end all he gets out is a low, frustrated yell. He scratches his head a few times, messing up his hair. Though the wind has already done a nice job of that, this high up. The stairwell creaks.

“Ugh, don’t fucking do this Asch!”

“ _Bye_ ,” Asch says, trying to muster as much contempt in the word as he can. It’s not that hard since he _is_ angry, a fiery frustration running through his veins. It’s just not directed at Luke— which doesn't particularly matter when he turns his head and starts walking away from the window. Luke couldn’t possibly take that any other way.

“Hey!” Luke bangs on the window. “Come back here! ...Argh!”

Asch doesn’t stop, instead he turns the corner and stops, grabbing his head and taking slow, deep breaths. His head fucking _hurts_ , the entire back end of his skull and it’s so _aggravating,_ how strong it is. He puts his back to the wall and slides down, curling up into a ball on the floor. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. His skull burns.

Then a loud rattling sound fills the room.

“...fuck, _fuck_ , Asch!! Asch!!”

The terror is apparent in Luke’s voice, and despite everything Asch stumbles to his feet, running back to the window as fast as his stiff legs will allow. He throws it open, hesitating at the sight.

Luke is hanging onto the railing— or what’s left of it — the rest of him dangling above the street. The street four stories down.

Asch can hardly breathe.

“Asch…! Help me up, please!”

He climbs out of the window carefully, wary of making the raggedy stairwell even worse. Because it’s _bad_.

It’s not just the railing that has collapsed but part of the platform Luke had previously been standing on as well, the steel grate breaking off from some serious erosion. Luke must have been speared with one of the jagged bars in the wreck, as the jeans he’s wearing are torn, blood running down his leg from a rather nasty looking gash. The parts of the platform that haven’t completely eroded away are jagged, threatening to tear into Luke’s torso if he moves the wrong way.

It’s _so_ bad. Luke looks about on the verge of tears.

“Asch!!”

“Hold on… hold on, I-I’m here,” Asch’s voice comes out weak, his chest heaving.

His skull _burns._

Asch gingerly lowers himself to his knees, grabbing one of Luke’s hands. From what he sees, there’s no good way of lifting him up without cutting him on the bars of the platform, but Asch figures it’s better than the alternative. So he starts pulling.

Luke begins to heft himself up as much as he can help as well, and slowly — very, very slowly, he starts to come up. Asch is

he’s starting to feel numb and

_Not now, please—_

“Asch, Asch what’re you—”

Luke has an iron grip on Asch’s arm, the arm that starts to go slack. “Asch please don’t drop me please please—”

He doesn’t.

Screaming, Asch pulls as hard as he can—

— _his skull is burning and it’s so hard to breathe but he can't, not this time, not_

They wind up in a heap on the remainder of the platform, panting. The wind has picked up, harsh enough to cut their cheeks.

Asch hasn’t stopped screaming. Luke is shaking hard, sprawled out in Asch’s lap but he drags himself up, placing his hands on either side of Asch’s face, patting him, trying to make him stop.

The screams aren’t loud, no, but they’re rugged, gasping, broken little things. He’s crying.

They’re both crying.

“L-Luke…. Luke, I…” Asch hiccups a bit, shaky arms pulling Luke close. He wants Luke closer, always, always, he wants _all_ of him and his joints are stiff and creaking and

 

it’s crawling up his spine, now, he can feel _it_ digging in bone deep, and he can’t—

 

Kissing Luke once, the spot right above his ear, he lets go.

And with a small push, they both go over the edge.

The only thing beneath them is a dumpster, and Luke hits the side of it on the way down. He hits his head, body going limp immediately, and Asch — it, _it—_ is still holding Luke tightly, hits the ground and rolls. The impact knocks any air he had from his lungs, and he feels the _crack_ of his bones all over, his arms, shoulders.

Luke’s face is coated in sticky blood and it’s all Asch can see. His neck bent at an unreal angle, skull dented in, half the skin of his face torn ragged—

Asch doesn’t try to do anything this time.

 

 

*

*

*

*

*

 

 

Asch wakes up at 11am. He jumps out of bed, heart already racing, and rushes to the bathroom. He stares into his own eyes, jaw tight.  The burning at the back of his brain is now a dull, wet sensation. He’s covered in goosebumps.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Asch says, and his voice is gravely like he hasn’t slept in years — which he isn’t sure, anymore, how long it's been, maybe it _has_ been years—

No response.

Until everything begins to burn and he hears

no, the thought is _imposed_ upon him:

 

**feed me**

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

*

 

 

 

Asch _dreams._

He is fifteen again, at his old high school. It’s a pretty posh place; the walls are white and covered with various plaques, names of people who have given to the school, cases full of prestigious awards and titles. Asch got into this place by the skin of his teeth, with a scholarship he has to struggle to keep.

No one here likes him.

Because he’s a poor troublemaker, someone who’s seen the inside of the principal’s office more than he’s seen his name on honor roll. A kid with bruised knuckles and nasty words. A kid who has been the system so long he’s forgotten who his real parents were. From house to house to house…

Asch doesn’t like anyone here either. Screw them.

But his foster mother — his fifth one, if he remembers correctly— god bless her soul, actually cared about what he did with his life. And she is nothing if not adamant in her ideals.

He manages to meet a few decent people in this god forsaken place. A girl, with blonde hair and strong, noble ideals. She speaks to him as if he is a person, and in time he grows to love her, her and her opinions and attitude and strength. She is there to challenge him when he is at his lowest, and he is nothing but grateful.

The other person he meets has red hair like him, though it is of a lighter color, and he has a gorgeous smile. He is bratty and distracting, but means well and learns to _learn_. He is a person stuck in a bubble carefully crafted by a meticulous society, and Asch becomes a needle to burst it, as he is prickly by design and his redhead is soft around the edges, so soft.

Asch is dreaming.

He is standing on a rooftop, overlooking a high rise. Up here he can see the exhaust pipes of the buildings rising into the air, as if the city itself is smoking, coughing. The wind whips at his face. He sees nothing at first.

_“Asch.”_

There is his redhead again, looking at him, smiling that smile. Asch smiles back but he is sure it must look haunting. His face isn't equipped for smiles no longer, no, his lips curl up but the gesture doesn't reach his eyes. He is

dead, inside, he

Asch cannot hear his own voice. _“I'm sorry, I…”_

 _“It’s okay,”_ his redhead says, and Asch is sure he is facing an angel, with a smile that grand. _“I promise. It’s okay.”_

The wind blows. Asch’s hair flies all around his head, in his eyes. It is nighttime and the city is breathing in, out, in all around him. Asch has cotton in his ears.

Asch is

 

dreaming,  or…

 

He is standing on the edge of the roof now, looking down at the street below. There are cars passing by like little ants below. It is a long drop down. He swallows thickly.

He remembers standing here before.

He can see his shadow, stretching wide upon the ground below and there are wings sprouting from it, dark, dark wings. They expand like fingers, curling about his silhouette like a puppeteer cradles the string of its creation.

Asch’s skull is burning.

It’s a long drop down.

 _“Why me?”_ Asch is speaking to the wind. His fists are clenched tightly at his sides but he cannot feel them.

He starts to sway.

 

**there is no reason**

 

Asch’s jaw is clenched tight, and it clicks whenever he attempts to move it. His joints feel stiff like they’re filled with sand. A tremble starts from his knees and travels up his spine, shaky like static. A scream is in his throat.

 

**feed me**

 

The swaying is getting stronger. In a moment, he will go over the edge. He will become a part of the cityscape, a bit of pavement on a busy street. A monument. _“Why?”_

Asch’s arms come up at his side, palms down. It’s dark, dark wings are raised and spread wide, prepared for flight.

He begins to drop.

 

 

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

 

 

Asch wakes up at 11am. He bolts straight up in bed and screams. He nearly throws himself from his bed in his haste, stomping over to his desk and knocking over everything,  all the neatly stacked books and organized papers and pens. When he’s done with that he kicks his backpack, not caring about his laptop inside.

He picks up boxes and tosses them at the walls, He kicks over his chair, he throws clothes everywhere, he tears the posters down from the walls. Panting from the effort, he growls.

It’s not enough —

In the living room he knocks over lamps, books, movies. His tv smashes into the wall with a sad little _crack_ and he tosses his game consoles with as much care.

Asch is taking in deep breaths but the air just feels like warm water.

He’s drowning.

His nerves are on fire but his joints creak when he moves and he feels so stiff and —

— there’s blood on his hands, dripping through his fingers

 

he wipes them off on his pants but it

 

sticks to his hands like a milky paste, thick dribble

 

Somewhere in between the screaming and the breaking

 

his phone starts to ring.

 

The generic ringtone echoes through the apartment, lulling everything into a sudden hush. Asch’s head burns. He’s shaking.

He trudges back to his bedroom and begins to wade through the mess, finding his phone on the floor under the window. There are some new cracks on the screen now, but it registers just as well to his touch.

It’s Luke.

Asch can feel his heart in his throat.

He picks up.

_“Asch! Where are you?”_

There’s nothing for him to say. He inhales more lukewarm water, his lungs about to burst.

_“Asch? Helloooo?”_

 

— _Asch, Asch, please, don’t, fuck fuck fuck_

 

_“Hey…. you okay?”_

A sob erupts from deep in his chest. Suddenly, he wants to tell Luke about every single one of his tears, he wants them to be in his voice, every regret, every apology, every little piece of love he’s ever gathered for this man.

He tries to tell Luke this but words filter out into cry after cry after

_“ — w-why are you crying?  Asch…? ...I’m coming over, okay? Just… just hold on.”_

He begins to tell Luke ‘ _no don’t_ ’ and ‘ _stay away from me, please please please_ ’ but it only comes out as loud babbling between sniffles and gasps.

 

**there is no reason**

 

It’s thick in his veins. He drops his phone, drags himself out of his room and to the front door. Walking is tough, like dragging his legs through mud. But he has to leave, he can’t be here when Luke gets here. He knows what’s going to happen.

 

**fͥ͋ͧ̈̆e͆̇͑̅̿̚ė̀ͮ҉d̓̍͂ ͗͗̆̿́m͏e͒**

 

Asch gets as far as his front door before his spine stiffens and everything around him seems to be growing dimmer, his

legs turn and take him to his kitchen.

His hands are rummaging through the drawers, his fingers wrap pretty around the biggest knife he has

Asch is trying to scream but he can’t feel anything.

Hours — minutes, seconds ? days pass and Luke knocks on the door. He tries the knob and it opens and Asch doesn’t like leaving his door unlocked but it _is_ and Luke takes a step in, looks to the side and

 

It’s on him immediately, the knife digs itself deep into Luke’s stomach and Luke’s scream is piercing.

He fights back at it with all his might but Asch’s arms are holding him down with an unnatural strength, his hand pulling back and stabbing in a new spot, again and again and

Luke’s screams turn into gargles, the blood smearing down his chin and he stops kicking, his tight grip on Asch’s arms slipping.

Asch’s hand reaches in and it pulls back a hand of red mush, intestine oozing out _black black black_ between his fingers and

 

Asch wakes up at 11am.

 

If he focuses hard enough he can feel the wings again, spreading along his back, the feathers wrapping him thick like a blanket. Perhaps he is going to fly away now.

He can’t feel anything else.

  
*  
*  
*  
*  
*

 

It doesn’t put on shoes when it leaves. It doesn’t take Asch’s phone, or car, doesn’t lock the door behind it.

The world seen through his eyes that are not his eyes is one that is strikingly clear. He can feel every stuttering breath that passes through his lungs, the thump thump thump of his heart, the goosebumps on his skin. Yet at the same time he can’t urge her fingers to move, his toes to wiggle, can feel the wind on his face but cannot blink his eyes or squint against the sun.

The walk to the café is long but one taken completely by — his— memory, as Asch is sure it has never gone this way before on it’s own.

They walk up right as Luke is walking out of the door, looking particularly disgruntled. The autumn breeze is blowing his hair into his face as he squints, making out Asch’s approaching form in the distance.

“Asch!” Luke runs to meet them halfway, frowning. “What the hell, why didn’t you answer your phone? And… uh… did you _walk_ here?” Luke grabs Asch’s sleeve and looks him up and down, expression becoming increasingly worried and confused. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

It doesn’t speak; Asch figures it probably does not know how to speak, not yet.

 _Please. Don't._ Asch can feel his throat swallow but cannot make any words form.

“Asch? Y-you look pale,” Luke says, patting Asch’s face. He pats Asch all over, eyebrows furrowing the more he touches. “Asch, are you hurt? You’re acting weird and you’re all clammy…”

It tilts Asch’s head to the side, and blinks. It juts their head out like an animal, following all of Luke’s minute movements with wide eyes. Asch has never wanted to run away as badly as he wants to now in his life.

Luke just watches with increasingly more worried looks. “Seriously, are you okay? Want me to take you to the hospital or something?”

It blinks very, very slowly. And then:

 

**"̧̋ͣŃ̅̓̀̔̉͑͟o̽̂̋͗.ͨ͐"͒̉̋̌**

 

If Asch had been in control, he would have shivered. That’s not his voice. It _is_ his voice, the gruff tenor he’s grown used to since puberty but it’s _not_ his, not now. Not this rough, unused.

“Are you _sure_?”

It nods Asch’s head once again in a slow motion, bobbing around a bit. It has never torn it’s eyes away from Luke, like it’s profiling every little detail of the redhead away for future use.

It’s disgusting _._

“I don’t…” Luke makes a tiny dissenting noise, shaking his head. “I’m taking you in. Come on, let’s walk to my car.”

Luke grabs Asch’s hand and begins to walk in the direction of campus, a walk significantly shorter than the one before.

Asch spends the entirety of the brisk walk screaming inside his own head. He doesn’t like seeing his own body move, watching Luke link their fingers together but not being able to respond, to squeeze them back.

If he could Asch would run in the other direction, as far as his legs would allow. Just run and run and—

It gets into the passenger side of Luke’s car with no small amount of help, its control over Asch’s limbs so awkward and stiff that Luke finds the need to fuss over him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad?” Luke slides into the car and starts it up, pausing to look over at them one more time. “We’re going straight to—”

Luke stops abruptly, his eyes going wide as his fingers tighten on the steering wheel. Asch’s head tilts to the side, view unblinking, and there’s nothing but the quiet hum of the engine for a few moments

 

he’s on Luke, now. Asch’s mouth opens as if to speak but instead a tongue, long and black slithers out between his lips, and this close he can see the tremors going through the other redhead’s body, the tears forming in his eyes, his throat moving in a continuous dry swallow.

It’s hands are out and holding Luke back before he can protect himself. They aren’t Asch’s hands anymore, no, they’re long long long fingers and sharp nails like claws, skin growing an unhealthy grey in patches. Luke is screaming but it’s almost muffled, like he’s so scared he can barely get out a sound. And he _is_ scared. Asch — it _knows_ he’s scared, it’s eyes never forgetting the trembling of Luke’s shoulders or the budding tears or his lips, apart, shaking, panicking

Luke starts to thrash and shake. It has his wrists caught in a firm grip and in this tight space he can hardly kick it away. Luke is screaming “No! No, no, no—” and, by some stroke of luck, manages to free one of his hands. He elbows Asch’s face — and Asch, as much as he knows that’ll hurt later, can only find himself grateful for it — and wrenches his other hand free.

When Luke manages to stumble out of the car there’s another scream. Like the call of some kind of beast, loud and triling and cracking in all the wrong places. It takes Asch a few moments to realize it came from his own throat.

“What the fuck?” Luke says, breathless, and Asch almost doesn't catch it.

It turns Asch’s head to look out the windshield, and instead of seeing Luke Asch sees…. himself.

 

In the reflection of the rearview mirror he sees some sick parody of his own face. Sunken eyes, turning red at the edges. Skin the color of his namesake but in patches, just like his hands before. Gray, pale blotches that look ready to peel and flake off. And, in response to something or other — maybe Luke’s verbal reactions, but Asch is so caught up he cannot tell what is bothering it now — it opens Asch’s mouth

and it keeps opening

and opening until he sees nothing but rows and rows of

 

sharp teeth and black black gums

 

It tears the mirror down and screams again and that’s when Luke starts to run.

 

 

*

*

*

*

*

 

It takes it a few minutes to break out of the car, and Asch takes some kind of satisfaction from that. It's the thought that with his headstart, Luke may have managed to find some place to hide away, or someone to help, or some sort of weapon, _something._ When they finally emerge from the car, however, it starts walking in the direction Luke left in with a quick, decisive stride, even though, as far as Asch can see, Luke is nowhere in sight.

There’s plenty of students walking around campus at this time of day and Asch thinks it’s a good thing. More people means there’s more cover. More hiding places. More time.

Instead when they start tearing through the crowds, bumping into unsuspecting students and unsurprisingly pissing them off, it’s first reaction is to scream in their faces with a mouth full of black, rotting teeth, and the horrified shrieks rolling through the air clears the area quicker than Asch has ever seen.

Amidst the exodus of college students Asch’s head suddenly snaps to a specific direction. Asch can’t see that far in the distance, but he doesn’t doubt that if he could he’d see bright red hair, a body running, a face twisted and terrified.

It places their hands — claws, jagged, _inhuman_ — on the ground and bends over, one knee bent in, and Asch recognizes the running position with a paralyzing sense of dread. Their nails dig into the concrete easily and it growls again before taking off, legs moving faster than Asch could ever run himself, though he never remembers running on all fours.

_Like some kind of monster, he thinks. He’s now_

 

_some kind of monster—_

 

They catch up to Luke, whose frantic running has taken him to one of the closest school buildings. He just manages to get inside before pulling the door closed behind him, causing them to crash into it, head slamming into the glass. It breaks, and Luke throws his arms up to shield himself from the debris.

Asch can vaguely feel the blood dripping from his face, can see it flying from his chin when his mouth opens in a little friendly greeting.

Luke screams when he sees them. Asch knows it’s only fair. Luke doesn’t wait before sprinting in the other direction, leaving the thing to pull itself through the opening it made in the door.

Getting cut up by splintered glass doesn’t seem to stop the thing, it eventually making it’s way through, tattered clothes and all, into the building. There’s a few increasingly worried students hanging about in the halls, and they all split upon sight of him, some weird — inhuman, _inhuman,_ ** _inhuman_** — thing running on all fours, snarling if anyone so much as glances at it. Asch thinks they’re tracing Luke’s scent or something, with the way they run through these halls like they know exactly which way to go.

There’s a peek of red hair around a corner, so they make a swift turn, skidding into the wall before taking off towards the man. They spot the Luke pushing through a door and bolt after him, finding the man frantically running up a long stairway. It gives chase.

Four flights and they reach the top. For a moment Luke is lost in a small crowd of students, ones who were no doubt alarmed by the commotion from the lower levels. They all bolt upon setting eyes upon Asch’s form, and with a well placed howl and a few snarls the floor is empty. There’s the slamming of a door and it turns to the classroom Luke has found shelter in.

It throws Asch’s body at the door but it doesn't open immediately. Luke yelps from the other side at the noise, so it throws the body at the door again. And again. The door falls open eventually, it tumbling in on all fours and turning their head sharply to look around.

They see Luke. They see Luke, two seconds before he brings down something metal and heavy on their head.

With a pained scream, it hits the floor and rolls to its side, cradling Asch’s head, legs kicking at the floor while it cries out in agony. Asch would scream too, if he could. Luke probably threw that with all the strength he had. And god, is Luke stronger than he seems.

“Wh…what did you do?” Luke’s voice stutters, almost too low for them to hear. He coughs, takes a panting breath. “What did you do to him? Where is he?”

It cranes Asch’s head around to look at the other redhead, and by the look on Luke’s face he could guess he doesn’t look very good. There’s a spot of pain so intense it’s almost blinding, right above his right temple, and Asch doesn’t doubt that _it_ is bearing its many sharp teeth in response.

“Where is Asch?” _Right here._ “The real Asch?” _Here. Right here. It’s me._ “Who….what _are_ you?”

After another moment it begins to move again. To its knees and then, slowly, to its feet. Watching Luke’s every minute movement as he does so. The object Luke hurled at their head — a projector by the looks of it, probably for use by a professor— is in a heap between them. Luke’s eyes dart to it but he ultimately decides against going for it, as he backs up towards the back of the classroom instead.

“S-stop!” Luke nearly trips over a chair as he backs away as quickly as he can. “Please…!”

They’re shambling closer. Luke is breathing so hard Asch can almost feel it himself. Like those errant breaths are his own heartbeats. Luke picks up that chair and tosses it. It gets batted away with minimal effort, the furniture hitting one of the many windows to Luke’s left. The window cracks deep, and the glass starts to crumble a bit.

Soon they’re standing right above Luke, and Asch wants to scream, he tries to scream

“Please… please don’t kill me, please…” Luke covers his ears, eyes shutting tight. “Please. _Please_ , don’t, Asch. Asch, _please_ —”

And he screams.

A violent shudders tears through their body, Asch doesn’t know how or why but he feels something _burning_ in his chest and he just screams as loud as he can. Here’s Luke, back against a wall, cowering in a corner and Asch doesn’t want to hurt him again he doesn’t.

He loves Luke so much, he _loves_ him, he _loves him and_

 

_he sees blood in the corners of his vision and he thinks about broken bones and muffled cries and_

 

he backs away from Luke, body convulsing. It’s fighting him, pulling at his bones and joints like they're playing a violent game of tug-of-war. His back is taut, his arms are stiff. It feels like there are fingers, many of them, tearing deep into his skin, wrapping around him and he screams and screams, trying to break away. Eventually, backing away, his back hits the window.

Asch looks to the ceiling. He brings his head forward and then slams it back into the window. The pain makes him see spots. He does it again. He keeps screaming and it sounds warbled to his ears but he bangs again and he can feel the glass chipping further and with another thud it shatters.

It growls and pushes Asch’s hands to grab the window frame, just barely stopping them from falling out. The glass digs into his fingers. Asch doesn’t stop yelling because once he does he knows it’ll all stop, the feeling he has, the control, his own body. He’ll lose it forever and Asch’s throat is raw but he loosens his fingers bit by bit with every wobbling sound that comes from his mouth.

He almost has it

“....Asch?”

Luke is a few feet away, looking at him. He’s a good few feet away now, safe, but he isn’t running for the door. They lock eyes. Luke is shaking like a leaf.

“Asch i-is that… is that you?”

He chokes on his next scream and begins to cry instead. _It’s me,_ he wants to say. _It’s me and I’m a fucking monster, stay away._ He cries, and it sounds like _You don’t deserve this, run away, please_ —

What he says, all grit and agony, is “I’m so sorry,” and then he finally lets go.

Funny enough, Asch could see Luke’s hand dart out for him, fingers mere centimeters away from his own as he falls. There’s something about this, the way Luke, terrified and terrorized, still attempts to save him that makes him want to laugh because that is _just_ like Luke. Wanting to save a monster like him.

He doesn’t recall the actual look on Luke’s face, however. What he remembers is the warmth of the midday sun, the wind blowing past his ears in those brief few seconds.

Falling so fast, he’s never felt more like flying, and if he focuses he can hear the faint flutter of wings stuttering behind him but he hits cold concrete first—

 

He starts with a gasp. There’s something heavy on his chest. When Asch opens his eyes everything is dark and it’s hard to breathe, like a heavy blanket has been tucked in tightly around his entire body. He thrashes, fighting to throw the it off and when he finally does, throws back his actual blanket and sits up ramrod straight, the heavy feeling just… dissipates. Panting, his eyes search the room as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen it.

He’s covered in sweat, shaking all over. He jumps to his feet immediately, feeling dizzy and all the more weak for the sudden movement, but he keeps going anyway. He stumbles to the window and throws his blinds open.

It’s pitch black outside. A surge of relief passes through him, and he hugs his arms, falling to his knees and letting his head rest on the wall. He feels sick to his stomach, the urge to puke weighing very strongly on his mind and he thinks he tastes blood, thick in the back of his throat, but among all of that he feels…. free. Like the chains that has restricted him for who knows how long has been loosened, and he can finally breathe. He doesn’t want to believe it. He hugs his legs close and sobs, deeply. For how long he doesn’t know, but by the time he’s ready the sun has begun to rise.

The first thing he does is crawl to his desk, grab his phone, and dial Luke’s number. After a few rings he hears the familiar voice, grumbly and sleep-ridden but it’s Luke nonetheless. Luke who yawns into the receiver and says “Good morning” like he’s never been dead. Or crushed or smothered. Or trapped in a corner, begging for his life.

Asch laughs, all broken, and says, “I love you.”

So Luke doesn’t go to his only class that day. They spend the entirety of it on Asch’s bedroom floor, and when Asch falls asleep again, passed out from the exertion, Luke pets his hair and tells him he’ll still be there when he wakes up.

 

And he is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe that the inspiration for this fic came months ago, when I put in "AschLuke" into [this generator](https://en.shindanmaker.com/536171) and received a single quote: "W-why are you crying?" Haha.
> 
> My roommate has told me that this is Almost novella sized material so, thanks for reading this monster.


End file.
